And he will remember it ere the end
by Casey Toh
Summary: "Your father loves you, and he will remember it ere the end." To see one's wife's life wane day by day, and his son grow, it is easier to blame another than himself. One shot. Complete.


**Notes:** A short piece spanning short durations of a few different periods in the Third Age.

Some words were taken from _The Return of the King_ paperback edition.

I haven't written for many years, so this is slight attempt to get back into writing.

**Disclaimer:** The Lord of the Rings and all related characters belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. No intentional copyright infringement is intended through their use.

"**Your father loves you, and he will remember it ere the end."**

By Casey Toh

As spring turned into summer in the year 2977 of the Third Age, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, then wedded to the Lord Denethor of Gondor for a year, became round with his first son. Both the lady and the lord were in the fullness of their health and prime, and the birth of their son was looked forward to, for their love was deep, and they were still newly-wed, and Finduilas smiled as she held her stomach.

Her face was clear, and she shone with the light of her people, who was said to have the blood of elves run deeply in them, however asleep it was. Her cheekbones were high, and her ears, though they did not taper to the points familiar to those on elven faces, were more shapely than anyone else's which could be found in Gondor. Her face was fair, and her voice brought the joys and sorrows of the waters far inland, to where the White City stood, where its people went rarely to the sea.

When their son was born in February of 2988, the Lord Denethor held the babe up and gazed into his eyes, and named him _Boromir_, for the Lord, by chance or powers beyond his ken, had the blood of old Númenor run nearly true in him, and the gift of foresight was given to him. And he foresaw that his son would be a great and strong captain, for he felt that these were darkening times and that great courage would be needed.

A 'steadfast jewel' Denethor named his son, and Finduilas smiled gently to see her lord carry their son, for his cheeks were ruddy and glowed with health.

In the autumn of 2980 of the Third Age, Finduilas went no more to the councils which Denethor held, for the growing shadow across the Anduin grew ever deeper in her heart.

Ever she stood upon the high walls of the White City, and though the wind was fair and cold, she turned her face from the mountains northwards, and her eyes gazed ever southwards.

Denethor stood frequently by her, and his keen eyes saw that the other love of his wife's heart now warred with her love for him, and coldness grew in him, for his love for her was still great, and he had given his heart to his city, and he would not be torn.

When 2982 came, Finduilas was again round with child. But her face held no more joy, and when her son was born in 2983, Finduilas trembled as she held her child.

Denethor then carried the child, and his eyes saw that the child held in him the life that he and Finduilas had given. But his wife was spent, and would not meet his eyes, but took their child from him and held him. And she fell asleep.

"Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle," Denethor said, and his eyes were hard upon his only son now. "That may well befit one of high race, if he sits in power and peace. But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death."

"So be it," Faramir said.

"So be it!" Denethor cried, and in his heart, he raged, for his son had lived while his wife had not, and the son likened to him had died, while the one who had leeched his wife's life still lived. "But not with your death only, Lord Faramir; with the death also of your father, and of all your people, whom it is your part to protect now that Boromir is gone."

And he saw Faramir as a thing, as a leech which had been the bane of his mother's life, for Finduilas grew wan and weary in Gondor, being fair and gentle when she had birthed Boromir, but weak and frail when she had birthed Faramir, for the sea-longing had grown again in her. And Denethor spent his anger upon his son, forgetting that it was he who had counselled his wife to remain in the city so that he could give Thorongil no chance to further weaken his place in his father's eyes.

"He lies within," Denethor said, "burning, already burning. They have set a fire in his flesh. But soon all shall be burned. The West has failed. It shall all go up in a great fire, and all shall be ended. Ash! Ash and smoke blown away on the wind!"

And Gandalf, that old fool, stood there with the _perian_ and one of those dressed in the livery of the black and silver of the guards, and they stood against him and his own. Fools, all fools!

Words were of no more use here. And words, all words of any worth had fled when he held the _palantir_ forth and it showed him again what he had seen when his son had been brought in. Gondor will fall.

He wrestled as the Grey Fool wrested his son from him, and did not remember what words spewed from his lips, for the _palantir_ took ever his thoughts and twisted them, and he knew little of what he said. But he felt despair, and his city was already falling into waste.

"Come hither!" he finally heard himself cry. "Come, if you are not all recreant!" And he snatched the torch from the hand of one of his servants, sprang back into the house, and thrust the brand into the fuel.

The staff of his Stewardship he took and broke upon his knee, and he cast the pieces into the fire and laid himself upon the pyre.

And as a fire was set within his own flesh, Denethor saw anew and clearly the eyes of Finduilas in the face of his son as one stared through the burning of his fever and caught his father's eyes.

Even as he burned and a great cry was torn from him, the Steward smiled and let his head fall back, for his wife now lived through the blood of their son, he who would be alive for some time longer.


End file.
